“That’s odd. I’d have thought you would have followed the case through to the end,” the Voice said, half-musingly. “But still, if you had, perhaps you would not be here tonight.”
“Why not? What difference would it have made?”
“I don’t know. That’s merely my surmise,” said the Voice.
A faint footstep padded through the hall outside the living-room.
“Is that you, Manuel?” Defoe asked, wondering what would happen when his Cuban valet encountered the intruder behind the chair.
The footstep halted.
“Si, senor,” answered the man-servant, at a respectful distance from his master’s chair. “I come to see why you sit up so late, senor.”
Defoe laughed mirthlessly. “Well, truth to tell, Manuel, I am detained on business,” and he wondered again how Manuel had escaped noticing the other presence in the room.
“You mean you fell asleep, senor?” asked the valet.
“I did, but some friendly caller has kept me pretty well awake the last ten minutes.”